Glimpses into the Darkness
by Herebedragons66
Summary: This work is for drabbles and short stories and writing prompt fills that are part of the "Unshaken by the Darkness" canon, but don't fit in the timeline of the actual story. I will not post anything here that would be a spoiler for an unpublished/future chapter of "Unshaken," but there may be spoilers for things that have already happened in the story.
1. Only one person I think about marrying

_This was written in response to a prompt from the "Imagine your OTP" blog on Tumblr: "Imagine your OTP finding out they like each other for the first time. person A passes person B a note that says "do you like me?" and when person B opens it they blush bright red. when person A gets it back, they get really excited and decide to keep the note forever." Obviously, the circumstances are a bit different, but I still think it fits the prompt reasonably well._

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_**22 Firstfall, 9:26 Dragon**_

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"_There's only one person I ever think about marrying anyway, and I haven't seen him in just over a year._"

Loghain read the words Rhianna had written. Then he read them again. Someone she hadn't seen in just over a year?

Loghain had kept careful track, and it had been exactly one year and twelve days since he sailed away from Denerim on this interminable voyage, searching for Ferelden's missing king.

But surely, she couldn't possibly have been talking about _him_.

Could she?

_Only one person I ever think about marrying. _

Maker's blood. Loghain heard Maric's voice in his head, almost as clearly as if he were in the room: "She _likes_ you. You should marry her. You and Rhianna have a … connection. She understands you in ways I don't, even after all these years. And you understand her."

Maker's _blood!_

What if Maric was right? What if there was something to what he had said that day at the waterfall? Certainly, the thought of being able to spend the rest of his life with Rhianna … well, it was more appealing than Loghain wanted to admit. She was lovely, funny, charming, smart. When he was in her company, he felt . . . content. Happy, even.

No. It was ridiculous. He was so much older than her, and she was still a child. Far too young for him to consider her as a partner, as his wife. Even if the letters she sent didn't feel like they'd been written by a child. She was so articulate and insightful, her sense of humor so keen, it was easy to imagine she was older, that in the time he'd been away, she had grown into a woman. Of course, she had never been childish. Even when she was five years old, there had been a maturity about her that set her apart from everyone else. It was this, perhaps, that had drawn him to her in the first place. And if this was true, perhaps there was some chance she truly wanted to be with him. A chance that he could make her happy. Or was this nothing more than his imagination? His own wishful thinking?

_Only one person I ever think about marrying._

Those words weren't his imagination. She had written them. Rhianna.

Perhaps it wasn't such a crazy idea, after all.

He read the words again, and then read her entire letter once more, from beginning to end. This time, when he read that line, he felt warmth grow inside of him. A comfortable, comforting warmth. And for the first time, the possibility of this, of making Rhianna Cousland his wife, seemed reasonable. Appropriate. Real. Something more than just the selfish fantasy of a ridiculous old man.

Aware of the gentle rocking of the ship as she passed swiftly over the ocean more than a thousand miles from home, Loghain closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, he folded the letter, carefully, tucking it back into its envelope. Then he placed it inside the pages of his copy of the Chant of Light, along with every other letter she had ever written to him.

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	2. A glimpse of something white

_Written for a prompt from Psyche Sinclair: "Rhianna and the Hawk," this episode takes place when Rhianna is fourteen years old, during the period when Loghain is away at sea._

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_**8 Firstfall, 9:26 Dragon  
Near Highever**_

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In spite of the cold, Rhianna left her cloak tied behind her on the saddle. She'd want it once the sun dipped lower in the sky, but for now she enjoyed the feel of the chill wind through the fabric of her woolen shirt. Her cheeks stung from the cold, but rather than make her uncomfortable, it gave her the most exhilarating feeling. A feeling that made her glad to be alive.

She and Faolan rode through the forest at a leisurely pace, with Dane running ahead, on a path that traced the bottom of the mountain stretching up on their right hand side. There were a few patches of snow on the ground from last week's storm, although a streak of relatively warm weather over the past two days had mostly melted it away.

They had no particular destination. For once, no one in the castle had need of her, and all had been quiet in the village when she walked through earlier in the day, visiting Garrick's shop for pasties for her lunch. So, she'd decided to ride out with just her animal companions, and enjoy what would likely be one of the last days this season before the snows hit in earnest.

Overhead, the sun shone, dappling the ground as its weak, early winter light filtered down through the trees. The air smelt of pine needles and damp earth, and occasional birdsong echoed through the valley: the bubbling trill of a winter wren, or the sharp scold of a magpie. For the most part, though, the forest was quiet; most of the summer residents had migrated to warmer climes, and only those creatures sturdy enough to survive the frigid winter still remained.

She loved being in the woods. It was so peaceful here, and the feeling of being all alone, away from people who wanted things from her, was delightful. Of course, she wasn't really alone; she had Dane and Faolan, and was surrounded by animals who were friendly if she approached them. Unlike people, however, in Rhianna's experience animals only asked for help when they truly needed it. Well, perhaps most people weren't all that bad; she was just grumpy about her recent trip to Starkhaven, and how horrid some of the people there had been.

Dog Lords, indeed. She'd caught more than one person staring at her behind, as though expecting to find a tail back there. Very annoying.

She couldn't wait to hear what Loghain had to say about all that. Well, to be honest, she couldn't wait to hear what Loghain had to say about anything. His letters were so wonderful: details about his trip, all thing things he was seeing at sea and in the places he stopped. Reading what he had written made her happier than just about anything else these days. She'd even sketched a map of Thedas - copied from an original belonging to her father - so she could draw in the route Loghain traveled, and mark all his stops along the way.

Of course, what she loved most was the mere fact that he wrote to her at all. That he seemed to enjoy her letters, and took the time to write back. When she sent the first bird, she wasn't sure he would welcome her correspondence (assuming the bird would even be able to find the ship at all; so far, though, her messengers had been remarkably good at finding him, for which she was very grateful). But then he had written back. Just the sight of his handwriting, such deliberate, graceful strokes of the pen, brought a smile to her face. And even now, she wore the ammonite pendant around her neck. Reaching up, she stroked its smooth surface with her fingers. It was one of the best things anyone had ever given her, and not just because it had come from Loghain.

Although that certainly was part of the reason she cherished it so much.

Up ahead, Dane yelped in surprise, then began barking furiously at a large hawthorn bush. Riding closer, Rhianna saw the cause of his alarm: a badger who had unwittingly ventured out of her sett just as the hound was passing by. The badger growled a husky warning, causing the hound to jump nearly three feet backward, and Rhianna couldn't stop herself from laughing. Dane was still such a puppy, really.

Dane gave Rhianna a wounded stare, as though the laughter had hurt his feelings.

"It's all right boy," she soothed. "I know you're a brave warrior. That silly badger just took you by surprise, didn't she?"

Placated by Rhianna's words, Dane huffed out a breath in agreement, and was soon off poking his nose under the next hedge along the path. She could have reminded him this was how he'd gotten himself into the trouble with the badger, but some lessons needed to be learned for themselves. Even if it took several times of making the same mistake before the lesson stuck.

WIth any luck, none of the hedges would be home to a skunk. That had the potential to end badly, with Dane forced to sleep outside for a few days, and he hated that.

A sound caught her attention, off to the right, and a little way up the hill. Crows cawing. Several of them, and they sounded agitated, rather than merely talking back and forth to one another.

Curious, she clicked her tongue and urged Faolan off the path. They picked their way through the sparsest parts of the underbrush in the direction of the commotion.

As they drew closer, it was obvious her assessment was correct: the crows were upset, circling one particular tree, a very tall hemlock, its tippy-top branch drooping gently to one side. There were at least eight of them, circling and crying and occasionally lunging toward the tree; typical mobbing behavior. Most likely there was a hawk, or an owl, perhaps even a lynx who had caught their attention.

She saw a glimpse of something white near the top of the hemlock. Wings, of a bird somewhat larger than any of the crows. But white? What sort of bird could that be? A snowy owl? A ptarmigan, perhaps? Although they rarely roosted so high up in trees, and it was a bit early in the season for them to have come down from higher elevations.

She reached out with her mind, startling the crows. Easily enough she brushed against the mind of her quarry. Whatever it was, the bird was frightened, and in pain. Rhianna sent comforting thoughts in the bird's direction. "Fly down to me," she urged.

The crows scattered as a large white bird spread her wings, and glided down from the top of the hemlock. She was a hawk, her hooked beak black at the tip, and yellow at the base, her eyes dark, and her underside pristine, sparkling white except for a few darker patches. She stretched out her bright yellow feet in preparation to land, and Rhianna raised her arm, offering the bird a place to perch.

Lifting her wings at the last moment to still her flight, she landed on Rhianna's arm, talons poking through the fabric of her shirt and piercing Rhianna's skin in a few places. Rhianna whimpered, but bit back the cry of pain on her lips. It was her own fault, after all; she should have thought to wrap her cloak around her arm before offering the bird a place to land. Even so, the hawk responded by relaxing her grip on Rhianna's arm, enough to ease the worst of the pain.

The bird was magnificent. Standing a foot-and-a-half tall, she was a goshawk, but unlike any Rhianna had ever seen before; these birds were usually streaked brown and tan, or a warm charcoal grey, but this one was almost entirely snowy white, with just a few speckly brown bars on her back and wings. The pattern on her breast, however, was not plumage after all; those feathers were stained with blood. The same was true in a couple of places on the bird's back and one of her wings.

She was injured; attacked by the crows, no doubt.

The bird panted softly through her opened mouth, and at close range, her eyes were dark red, not black as they had appeared from a distance.

"Oh, you poor darling," Rhianna soothed, reaching out slowly to stroke the bird's back. The hawk tensed, but then soon settled, hunching her shoulders and allowing her eyes to partially close, as she relaxed under Rhianna's touch. "You've been through something awful, haven't you?"

The hawk showed Rhianna images of what had happened. Not long after she had fledged, a storm had hit the forest high in the mountains where she'd been born. Disoriented, she'd flown off course, and then couldn't find her way back to her roost, to her parents and siblings. Hungry and alone, she'd been searching for food, but had caught the attention of a flock of crows, who pestered and followed her. She'd tried to fly away, escape their noisy cries and angry beaks, but they'd chased her, and no matter how close she huddled to the trunk of a tree, as her parents and siblings had done, the crows were still able to find her.

Rhianna realized this was due to the bird's coloration. A forest hawk needed to be able to blend in with the tree branches, but this bird, with her unusual white plumage, had nowhere to hide.

"How would you like to come home with me?" Rhianna offered. "We'll tend to your wounds, and perhaps once the weather improves we can try and find your family."

The bird lowered her head, and shifted position so the feathers lay flat on her back.

_Yes. Please. I don't like it here._

"Then home with me it is. And what shall I call you?"

A shudder went through the bird's body, as she ruffled her feathers, then smoothed them again. Clearly, she had no opinion on the matter.

"Hmnh. What about . . . Gwyn. How do you like the sound of that?" A name meaning "white" seemed appropriate.

Again, the bird inclined her head, then pushed forward, nudging her bill against Rhianna's cheek.

The girl chuckled softly. "I'll take that as a yes. Come on, then, Gwyn. Let's get you home."

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	3. The best tea party ever

_A bit of ridiculous fluff, featuring eight-year-old Rhianna, along with Loghain and Maric. A friend suggested there should be more banter between the three of them, and this story popped into my head._

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**_8 Wintersend, 9:21 Dragon_**

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"King Maric, I need your help with something."

Maric pulled the slight, dark-haired girl onto his lap, and gave her his full attention.

"How may I be of service, milady?"

The Couslands had spent the past several months in Denerim, although Maric thought they had intended to return to Highever after First Day. But the holiday had recently passed, and they were still here. Today Rhianna had requested an audience with the king, and Maric had happily granted one.

"Did you know that tomorrow is Teyrn Loghain's birthday?"

Ah. Perhaps that explained the extended stay. It was entirely possible that eight-year-old Rhianna had managed to convince her parents to stay in town a few extra days, so she could help celebrate Loghain's birthday. After her recent illness, Maric doubted they would deny her much of anything she requested, and rightly so.

"Is it?" He allowed his brow to furrow slightly. "Are you sure his birthday is tomorrow? I thought Loghain's birthday was the First of Solace?"

Rhianna giggled. "No, Your Majesty. _My_ birthday is the First of Solace. Loghain's is the Ninth of Wintersend. Which is tomorrow."

"Oh! Is it? Already. That snuck up quickly." He bent his head closer to hers. "You won't tell Loghain I forgot the date of his birthday, will you?"

"No, I suppose not." She regarded him through narrowed eyes. "So long as you're willing to help me, that is."

"Oh, ho! Now you're making demands to ensure silence? Blackmailing the king?"

"Why not?"

He couldn't think of an answer to that. "All right, how can I help?"

"Well, I'd like to do something for him. Something special. But I'm not sure what he would like best. Could we plan a trip riding out in the woods? Or maybe he would prefer going out on a boat. What do you think he'd like to do on his birthday?"

"Hmnh." Maric pretended to think.

To be honest, Loghain would be pleased with anything Rhianna suggested; he was ridiculously fond of the girl. Not that Maric had any room to talk; he was rather enamored of the little Cousland girl himself. She was delightful, and the three of them had become frequent companions while she'd recovered from being so sick. Loghain had helped nurse her back to health, and Maric had come to visit her during the worst of it, and when she was well enough, the three of them had enjoyed dinners together, and walks through the garden, as she regained her strength. No doubt, she was strong enough now for a ride in the woods, and no doubt Loghain would enjoy that.

But this was far too good an opportunity to pass up.

"What about a tea party?" he suggested.

"A tea party?" Rhianna's nose wrinkled.

"Yes! A tea party. You know, with little cakes and scones and jam and fancy plates with flowers and things on the table. And, of course, tea."

"Yes, I know what tea party is, but are you sure that's what he would like best? A tea party?"

"I've known Loghain for years, Rhianna. Trust me. Loghain loves tea."

"Yes … but that's not exactly the same thing as liking tea parties, is it? I've never heard him talk about tea parties before."

"Of course he doesn't talk about them. You know Loghain. So stoic, never complaining. He never wants to be a bother, so he rarely talks about what he wants, or what would make him happiest." That much, at least, was true. "He would love a tea party. Provided, of course, that you are the hostess. We'll have it here at the palace, but you should be the one to pour."

"All right. I'll be the hostess. Will you invite him, though? So it will be a surprise?"

"Of course. Just arrive at noon, and I'll make sure he's here. He will definitely be surprised."

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Loghain arrived at the palace feeling mildly curious. Maric's invitation had been almost annoyingly vague, and Loghain had an uncomfortable feeling there was something the king wasn't telling.

He soon discovered what. He entered the small sitting room - Maric's favorite in the palace - to find Rhianna Cousland waiting, along with Maric, whose eyes were lit by something that looked suspiciously like mischief.

Rhianna stood. "Happy birthday, Teyrn Loghain! Welcome to your party!"

Oh. So that's what this was about. A party? But why did Maric still have that ridiculous grin plastered on his face?

Loghin looked at the table. It was painstakingly set for four, with delicate floral patterned dishes, and plates of little baked delicacies and finger sandwiches, and a large porcelain tea pot. Rhianna's large brown plush toy bear - Ser Ruffalo, he thought she'd named it - was "seated" in one of the spots, holding a flower in his paws.

"This was King Maric's idea," Rhianna explained. "He said the thing you would like best for your birthday was a tea party, so here we are!"

A tea party? At Maric's suggestion? Well, that explained the grin, anyway.

He bowed low before Rhianna. "Thank you, milady. I am honored you thought of me, and am very pleased to have been invited to such a lovely event."

"Come and sit down, and I'll pour the tea," she said.

"Not so fast!" Maric popped up out of his chair. "This is Loghain's birthday, after all. And it wouldn't be properly festive without fancy dress, would it?"

The king reached into a crate that he'd hidden behind one of the chairs. He pulled out a gown, crimson red, with a long flowing skirt and what would be a fitted bodice on an adult woman. Loghain hadn't seen that particular dress in years.

"Here, Rhianna. This belonged to Queen Rowan, and I think it will look lovely on you." Maric gestured that she should step close, as he bunched the dress up in his hands. She raised her arms, and he slipped it over her head, and a moment later, Maric tied up the laces at her back. The dress was far too long, and baggy everywhere, but the girl had a delighted smile that could have thawed the coldest winter snows.

"You look gorgeous!" Maric said approvingly. Then he pulled out a black velvet smoking jacket, of Rivaini design, and slipped it on. "And tell me the truth. Just how dashing do I look in this jacket?"

"Very dashing!" Rhianna exclaimed, clapping her hands.

Next, he pulled out a wide-brimmed hat, of purple felt with an extremely long white plumed feather sticking out the back. "This is for Ser Ruffalo," Maric declared, setting the hat far enough back on the bear's head so it didn't fall down and cover his face.

Once more Maric reached into the crate. This time, in his hands was a sort of robe … thing. Floor length, and made of peacock blue silk. Orlesian, no doubt. Possibly something that belonged to a courtesan, once upon a time, judging by the look of it.

"And, the best for last: this is for the birthday boy!" Maric didn't even try to hide the triumph in his smile.

Under no other circumstances would Loghain ever consider wearing such a garment, but one look at Rhianna's face - her eager smile, the light in her eyes - and he took the robe from Maric's hands, and slipped it on over his clothing.

"You look very festive, Teyrn Loghain," Rhianna said approvingly.

"Yes, Loghain," Maric agreed, obviously struggling not to laugh. "_Very_festive."

Finally, they sat down to their tea. Rhianna was a perfect hostess, pouring the tea and serving the cakes, and making interesting small talk, something for which the child had an unusual knack.

Afterwards, Rhianna turned to him. "Happy birthday, Teyrn Loghain. I really do hope you're enjoying your party."

"I am," he said truthfully. It was even worth wearing the damned Orlesian robe to have an afternoon with two of his favorite people in all the world. "Thank you for arranging all this."

"Oh, I didn't arrange much of anything. As I said, this was King Maric's idea, and he made all the preparations. But I did want to do something special for you. Something that was completely my own idea. So, I came up with a game for us to play."

"A game?" Maric sounded genuinely surprised. Apparently, he knew nothing about this.

From under her chair, Rhianna pulled a small box, open at the top. It appeared to have several folded slips of parchment inside. "Yes, we're going to play a special game for Teyrn Loghain's birthday. It's a sort of guessing game. One of us will pull out a parchment, and then have to act out whatever is written on it. And then, the other three will each have one guess about what animal is being acted out."

"Oh, all right," Maric agreed, glancing at Loghain. Yes, clearly he knew nothing about this. "Wait, the other _three_?"

"Of course. Don't forget about Ser Ruffalo."

"Oh! Of course. We mustn't forget about Ser Ruffalo."

Loghain expected her to offer him the box first, but instead, she pushed it in front of Maric. "Go ahead, Your Majesty."

"Me? But shouldn't Loghain go first? It is his birthday, after all."

"Oh, no," she said. "You're the king. That means you should always get to go first. Go on." She pushed the box closer. "Take one."

"All right." Maric stuck his hand in, and then read the writing.

"You'll have to get up out of your chair," she urged.

"Oh, of course." Maric stood, and moved to the clear area away from the table. "Okay, guess what I am."

He held his arms up in front of his body, his hands curved like little paws. Then he twitched his nose and began to hop, jumping with both feet off the ground at once.

A rabbit, or perhaps a hare. Loghain was about to say as much, but as Maric hopped around the room, Rhianna glanced over, and when she saw that she'd caught Loghain's gaze, she shook her head slightly, and winked.

Ah. She was up to something, wasn't she?

"Oh!" she exclaimed. "I know! You're … you're a gopher, aren't you?"

"What? No. I'm not a gopher. Guess again." Maric continued to hop, but now he lifted his arms, and stuck four fingers up just behind his ears, and wiggled them around.

"I think I know," Loghain said. Rhianna glanced at him again, and he winked back. "A hedgehog. Those are your spikes, yes?"

Maric stopped hopping. "No. I'm not a hedgehog. Honestly. Have you ever seen a hedgehog hop? Guess again." He now began to hop with renewed energy, exaggerating all his actions.

"Oh! I think Ser Ruffalo knows!" Rhianna shouted. "He thinks you're a squirrel! Squirrels love to hop!"

"No!" Maric put his hands on his hips, and shook his head. "I'm not a squirrel."

"Oh, but that was our third guess." Rhianna sounded regretful. "We've lost this round. What animal were you?"

"I was a rabbit," he said, and his tone indicated he thought his companions were quite foolish not to have guessed.

"Oh, of course! Rabbits do love to hop, don't they?" Rhianna said. Maric started back to his seat, but before he sat down, she continued, "All right, choose another, then."

"What? Isn't it someone else's turn?"

"Of course not. You get to keep playing until we guess correctly. Those are the rules. You don't want to cheat at the game, do you?"

"Oh." His face fell. "Of course. The rules." He took a deep breath, and let it out again, then pulled out a new slip of paper. "All right. Let's try this again."

He stood in the center of the room, and put both of his arms out in front of him, and began to lumber back and forth. Then, he growled, a rumbling growl from deep in his chest. It was far from the best impression Loghain had ever seen, but if he had to guess (correctly, that is), he would have said Maric was pantomiming a bear.

"What is that?" Loghain asked. "A mountain lion?"

"No," Maric said. "Not a mountain lion."

"Of course it's not a mountain lion," Rhianna chided. "Just look at him. He's obviously a badger!"

"No, I'm not a badger, either!"

Now, Maric dropped to all fours, and started "walking" across the floor on his hands and knees, still growling, quite furiously now.

"I'm a bit stumped," Rhianna said. That was unlikely, considering she was the one who put the animal names in the box in the first place. Surely, she knew all the possible correct answers.

"Ah. What's that, Ser Ruffalo?" Loghain said. "You think the king is a mabari hound?"

"No!" Maric sounded exasperated as he slumped backwards into a seated position on he floor. "I'm a bear. A bear! Wasn't that obviously a bear?"

"Oh, Maker! Of course!" Rhianna sounded genuinely regretful. "You really were a very good bear. I suspect Loghain and I just aren't very good at guessing. Although Ser Ruffalo should have gotten it right, being a bear himself." She turned to the plush animal. "You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Ser," she chided.

She stood, and walked over to Maric, with the box in her hands. "Try again."

"Again?"

"It's the rules," she insisted.

He let out a pained sigh, but took another slip of paper. As Rhianna returned to her seat, he stood. "Okay, but this is the last one, whether you guess correctly or not."

He stood straight up, then bent at the knees, and put his hands beneath his armpits. Then, he began to strut across the floor, legs bent, lifting his knees high, while flapping his arms like wings. With each step, he stuck his neck out, and then pulled it back again quickly.

This time, Loghain wasn't sure how to guess. It was some sort of barnyard bird, obviously, but duck, goose, chicken - all of them seemed possible, and he didn't want to risk guessing correctly. Best to let Rhianna take the lead on this one.

"Ser Ruffalo thinks you're a duck!" Rhianna cried.

"No!" Maric shouted. "But you're getting closer! Guess again!"

"A swan," Loghain suggested.

"No, no, no! Guess again!" Now, Maric strutted around the room, pretending to peck at the furniture, shaking his head as he "dabbled" at one of the tapestries on the wall. It was one of the most ridiculous things Loghain had ever seen in his life, and he found it increasingly difficult not to laugh.

"I know, I know, I know!" Rhianna exclaimed. "You're a goose!"

"YES!" Maric jumped in the air, both hands in fists above his head. "Finally! You got one!"

"Well done!" Rhianna clapped her hands. "You make a very fine goose, Your Majesty."

"Thank you." He took an exaggerated bow. "Okay, who's next? How about you, Loghain?"

"Oh no," Rhianna interrupted. "That's the whole game."

Maric's brow furrowed. "What? What do you mean it's the whole game? We've only just started."

"I said I wanted to do something for Teyrn Loghain's birthday that he would enjoy. And you suggested a tea party." She tilted her head slightly to one side. "But I think you and I both know that a tea party, even a lovely one like this, is not really his favorite thing. Especially since you made him wear an Orlesian dressing gown."

"Oh." Maric had the good grace to look somewhat chagrined. "Perhaps you're right."

"So, I decided the tea party wasn't the real surprise. We'd use it as an excuse to get him here, and then I could give him something I knew he would genuinely enjoy." She turned to Loghain. "Was I right, Teyrn Loghain? Did you enjoy watching the king make a … goose of himself?"

She giggled, softly; never had he seen a happier, more mischievous, more self-satisfied smile in all his life.

"I did, indeed, enjoy it. Very much." He bit back his laughter. "Thank you, Rhianna. That maybe be the best birthday gift anyone has ever given me." he said, truthfully.

Loghain glanced at Maric. The king looked defeated, his brow furrowed and his mouth hanging slack. Understandable. The King of Ferelden had just been made the punchline of a rather elaborate joke. By an eight-year-old. And he'd never even seen it coming.

Rhianna giggled again, and then, finally, between her laughter and Maric's forlorn expression. Loghain was unable to keep his own mirth in check. He burst into laughter, which only made Rhianna laugh harder. Even Ser Ruffalo seemed to have an extra glint in his shiny black eyes.

Maric just stared, first at Rhianna, then at Loghain, and then back at Rhianna.

He glanced at the bear.

Then, one corner of his mouth twitched. Again. And again. A chuckle started, deep in his chest, and soon his shoulders were shaking with laughter, and he fell back onto his chair, tears streaming down his face.

"I suppose," he managed, between gasping breaths, "I deserved that. Happy birthday, Loghain."

"And you." He turned to Rhianna, stabbing in her direction with one finger. "I'll get you for this. When you least expect it."

She giggled again. "Oh, I have no doubt you will. But in the meantime, perhaps you'd like to choose another parchment?"

Once again, laughter filled the room.

It really was the best tea party ever.

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End file.
